


honeysuckle on his lips

by ophelialilies



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, Fluff, M/M, Mark is whipped, Pining, Smut, Strangers to Lovers, barista donghyuck is so cute i'm dying, coffee shop AU, cute barista boy haechan, i made a playlist to go with this, markchan, markhyuck, music major mark, nomin in the background
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:46:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22598041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophelialilies/pseuds/ophelialilies
Summary: “I fall in love too easily.”“Hm?”“That’s the song that was playing the day I first saw you.”(aka Donghyuck is a cute barista and Mark falls in love with the boy who looks like gold and tastes like honey)
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 54
Kudos: 487
Collections: Favorites





	honeysuckle on his lips

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my second markhyuck work! i hope you like it ! please let me know what you think in the comments ♡
> 
> there's a playlist that goes with this work, it's on my twitter [here](https://twitter.com/ophelialilies/status/1225711163872145409?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> happy reading!

The small bell on the cafe door jangles softly when Jeno pushes it open excitedly, pulling Mark in with him. The cafe smells like coffee, like caramel, like honey and something roasting. It’s warm, like a fireplace, like Christmas, and Mark takes a moment to breathe it in. 

Despite having come from dance practice, that heat is long lost. His hands are cold from the first kiss of winter outside, and he shudders at the relief of warmth. 

“This is the place I told you about!” Jeno says with excitement, pulling Mark to the only available table where they sit. 

The cafe is spacious without losing that cosy feeling. There’s a warmth to the place, in the golden lighting, the hazy hum of chatter, and the coffee steam. 50s style jazz plays through the speakers, and students wrap their cold hands around soothing mugs of warm coffee. The place smells like winter, but feels like home. 

The walls of the cafe are completely glass, allowing one to watch the hurds of students bustling past, always in a hurry. The cafe, called _La Belle_ , is new, and desperately needed at that. There was already a cafe on campus, but it was overpriced and overcrowded, and Mark only went there for takeaway. He would never consider staying there.

Jeno breaks him from his daze when he pushes a menu towards him. The laminated sheet of paper details all the hot drinks and snacks they have on offer. Mark’s eyes graze over the paper, unsure of what to get, when he notices something small and scribbled in pen, like an afterthought, at the bottom. It reads _“Barrista’s special”._

That is the extent of the description, and Mark feels his interest peaking. He glances up, trying to put a face to the name (or rather, title) when his eyes land on said barista. 

It’s a boy, no older than Mark. He wears a beige apron over a black turtleneck which hides his sun-kissed golden skin. The boy has mousy brown hair, amber eyes like liquid gold, and heart-shaped lips which are smiling softly as he carefully pours coffee into a mug. A few moles decorate his otherwise unblemished complexion, placed with such care they look like the strokes of an artist. He is beautiful, and Mark is breathtaken.

Over the speaker, Mark hears the fragile, melancholic voice of Chet Baker.

_I fall in love too easily. I fall in love too fast. I fall in love too terribly hard, for love to ever last.._

“Earth to Maaark.” Jeno interrupts, waving a hand in front of his face. When Mark stirs, Jeno turns to follow his gaze. He lets out a soft “Oh”, before turning back around with a knowing smile. He’s been exposed, and Mark can only prepare himself for the teasing that is no doubt coming. 

“I see you noticed Donghyuck.” Jeno says, cocking his head to the side with a smug look in his eye. 

“Who?” Mark asks.

“The barista. His name is Donghyuck, I think. He’s friends with Jaemin. I’ve met him once.” Jeno says pensively, and Mark hums, taking the information in. 

“A music and dance major, like us. I’m surprised you haven’t seen him around before.” Jeno says, genuinely confused.

“What makes you think I haven’t seen him around before?” Mark asks almost defensively. Jeno laughs.

“Because of the way you were looking at him just now. It was like love at first sight.” Jeno teases and Mark pushes him gently.

“Shut up.” Mark murmurs, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. Mark had always been an open book, never able to conceal his emotions. It made him an easy target for teasing, and boy did his friends love to tease. 

“Let’s order, shall we?” Jeno asks with a wink. Mark nods silently, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. 

They walk over to the counter, where the boy is working alone. He moves between serving customers and making drinks with a calmness that is impressive. The cafe is busy, bustling with people, and still being managed single-handedly by this boy. 

They join the queue, and when it’s their turn, Jeno greets Donghyuck. “Donghyuck right? I’m Jeno, Jaemin’s friend. We met once before.” Jeno says, in his usual friendly tone.

“Jeno! Hi, I remember you!” the boy, or Donghyuck, says. He flashes a beautiful, friendly smile, warmer than the cafe itself.

Jeno pushes Mark forward from where he had been awkwardly standing behind him. “This is my friend Mark. He knows Jaemin too.” 

Donghyuck shines that same smile at Mark, and Mark can’t help but smile back, rubbing at the back of his neck. 

“Hi Donghyuck, nice to meet you.” he manages to say, and Donghyuck only smiles wider. 

“What can I get you two?” Donghyuck asks, hands reaching for a pen and paper.

“I’ll have a latte please.” Jeno says. Donghyuck nods and turns to Mark, a small smile dancing on his lips.

“I’ll have the Barrista’s special please.” Mark says with more confidence this time, feeling his usual conviction returning. 

“Oooh” Jeno coos, and Donghyuck smiles. 

“Perfect! Coming right up.” Donghyuck says, already moving to prepare their drinks. Mark steps forward, confused, cash in hand.

“But we haven’t paid you.” Mark says, and Donghyuck pauses, looking up at him with those warm eyes, so warm they seem to be swirling with molten gold. Mark watches him, still confused as he smiles.

“It’s on the house.” Donghyuck chirps.

“Oh, thank you.” Mark says, smiling nervously. Donghyuck smiles back. 

Jeno guides him back to their table where they settle once more.

  
“I bet you want more than the barista's special, hmmm” Jeno teases, laughing when Mark starts to blush. Mark shoves him slightly and buries his head in his hands on the table. His friends never gave him a break.

He’s still in that position when Donghyuck comes over with their drinks. At the sound of the boy’s sweet voice, Mark whips his head up so fast things are spinning for a moment. Jeno laughs at him but Donghyuck just smiles, the glint of something innocent yet knowing in his eyes. There’s something deep and intelligent about them, like he can see right through Mark, reading his soul like a book. 

Donghyuck gives them their drinks while Jeno engages him in conversation. Mark isn’t really listening as he takes a sip of his drink, curious as to what it may be. 

It tastes like cinnamon. Like spice. It flickers in his throat like a small ember, warming him up from the inside. He closes his eyes and hums.

“Do you like it?” he hears Donghyuck ask. Mark nods with a smile, and sees the ghost of a blush on Donghyuck’s cheeks. “I’m glad” Donghyuck says, almost bashfully. 

“Well, I better get back to work. There’s a bit of a queue forming.” he says, worriedly eyeing the group of people who just entered the cafe. 

“No worries.” Jeno says with his puppy-dog smile, the one that reaches his eyes and closes them like half moons.

“Thank you for the drink, Donghyuck.” Mark says, looking up at the gorgeous boy again. When their eyes meet, Mark feels his heart doing somersaults. 

“Any time. Nice to meet you Mark.” Donghyuck says, smiling as he hurries back to the counter. Mark sighs. That boy really was breathtaking. 

Jeno must have sensed Mark’s turmoil, as for once he let it go, not telling him about the cute barista boy any further. At least, not for today. 

☽

  
  


The clock ticks closer and closer to the hour, and Mark’s eyelids are heavy. The professor at the front of the lecture hall has long abandoned this week’s topic, diverging on a passionate tangent about the rise of commercialised music in the West. 

Mark stopped listening a while ago, his brain preferring to fantasise about sleep instead. He had been up late last night, as he was most nights, working on his music. He had practiced guitar until his fingers had bled, still sore and calloused now on the pen lazily held in his hands. 

This morning he received a lecture from Jeno for staying up so late, as if Jeno didn’t do it just as often. The boy would spend the early hours of the morning either dancing until his muscles ached, or pining over one Jaemin. Mark was the only one who knew about Jeno’s feelings, other than Renjun, and whenever Mark was tired of his teasing, the Jaemin-situation was always a good source of ammunition to wound Jeno back. 

Speaking of Jaemin, the boy is next to Mark, his hand on Jeno’s thigh next to him. Jeno’s cheek’s are the colour of red roses in spring, and Mark reminds himself to tease Jeno about this later. It is obvious to anyone with eyes (except Jeno) that Jaemin reciprocates his feelings, the two of them caught in an awkward and exhausting dance of denial (not just for them but for everyone else, too). 

On his other side, Mark hears Renjun scoff. When he looks, Renjun is rolling his eyes, muttering an _“honestly_ ” under his breath. Mark nods in agreement and the two of them laugh. 

Turning his attention back to the lecturer, Mark feels his mind begin to drift again. However, this time it isn’t to the thought of his warm bed, those soft sheets so welcoming, offering to envelop him in the depths of sleep. 

No, this time his mind goes towards another warm, comforting place. One that smells like honey, like burnt caramel and cinnamon. _La Belle._ Or rather, Donghyuck. 

Since they met last week, it was proving difficult to not think about that boy, his face dancing like a golden ghost behind Mark’s eyes, a sweet voice ringing in his ears. 

It was safe to say that from only one interaction, Mark had developed a crush. Although he wasn’t sure he would do anything about it. They had only met once and he had no idea if Donghyuck would be interested. 

Mark sighs against the palm of his hand. Finally, the clock strikes midday, and the lecture is over. 

The sound of books closing, chairs moving, and students rustling fills the hall, everyone desperate to get out. The campus was always alive with that same bustling energy, each person in a rush to be somewhere or to do something. 

It was easy to forget each student was actually a person, and not part of this massive hive of moving energy.

It was invigorating, and Mark loved it, but sometimes he needed the opposite; somewhere lazy, cozy, and warm. A break from the chaos. A piece of home. 

The four boys pack their bags and walk towards the exit of the lecture hall. When they finally reach the door, the cold kiss of a harsh winter air caresses their skin. Winter has come early this year, and it was predicted to be a long one. 

Shivering, Mark pulls his bomber jacket tighter around himself. The beanie on his head isn’t doing much to preserve what little heat his body is producing.

It’s lunchtime, and the four friends usually eat at the foodcourt on campus, settling for the less than ideal food quality in favour of saving money. They were students, after all.

However, as they cross the courtyard – a wide open space normally green and alive but replaced by the corpses of trees shedding their leaves – Jaemin seems to have another idea.

“I know!” Jaemin exclaims suddenly, breaking the hungry silence that had fallen. “Let’s go to that new cafe! My friend Donghyuck works there.” he says excitedly from where he is walking with Jeno in front of them. 

“Oh, I haven’t had a chance to visit him yet!” Renjun pipes up, matching Jaemin’s enthusiasm. 

Jeno turns around and shoots Mark a silent look, somewhere between smugness and satisfaction. Mark frowns back at him, hoping the colour on his cheeks can be explained by the cold weather and not the sudden wave of anxiety that pulses through him.

Mark flicks his gaze down to Jeno’s hand, which is intertwined with Jaemin’s as the boy hurries excitedly to the cafe. When he looks back up at Jeno, Jeno is the one to blush, turning back around sheepishly. At least Mark won that silent battle, for once.

As they near the cafe, Mark’s heart begins to race. Through the large glass windows of _La Belle_ , he can see Donghyuck. The boy is concentrating, biting his lip as he pours a drink with skilled hands. A beige apron wraps around his lean, tall figure, matching the warm light bouncing off his golden locks. His honey skin looks like a lie, from where Mark stands outside in the icy wind of winter. 

They reach the door, Jaemin pushing through with more energy than any of the other hungry boys could muster. Soft jazz – the sound of a trumpet, of elegant fingers on piano keys – fills Mark’s ears. The cafe is full of students escaping the weather, chatter and laughter dancing through the air. The scent of caramel, of coffee beans and spice is all too familiar, and the air is warm and thick with the mist of coffee steam. It’s calming, like a delicate hand on Mark’s hand, gently willing it to settle. 

They take a seat near the window, and Mark can feel eyes on him. When he looks up, those eyes belong to Donghyuck, who is watching him carefully. They meet eyes and Donghyuck blushes, smiling before quickly looking away, busying himself with the order of the next customer. 

_Wise men say only fools rush in. But I can't help falling in love with you._

“What are you smiling about?” Renjun asks, a mocking smile on his lips that pulls Mark back to reality. Mark always forgets how good his friends are at finding something to tease him about. It was like their sixth sense. 

“Nothing.” Mark blushes, trying to brush it off. He expects Jeno to say something, to mention Donghyuck and his little crush, but he doesn’t. Out of mercy, or patience for a better moment to tease him, Mark isn’t sure. He hopes it’s the former. 

The conversation dulls as the boys eye the menu hungrily. Before they can stand to take their orders, Donghyuck is moving towards their table, finding a break in the customers to come over.

“Jaemin, Renjun!” Donghyuck exclaimed as he nears them. 

“Hyuckie!” Jaemin says, standing to give the boy a fond hug. Mark smiles to himself at the nickname; a cute nickname for an even cuter boy.

The boy moves to where Renjun is sitting, and instead of hugging, Donghyuck places his hands gently on Renjun’s shoulders, leaning down and placing a delicate kiss on his cheek. 

“Injunie” Mark hears the boy say as his own heart sinks in his chest. A flicker of sadness and jealousy burns in his stomach. His mind goes blank and he doesn’t hear Donghyuck greet him, until Renjun is shoving him. 

“Don’t be rude, Mark.” Renjun says playfully. 

“Oh, sorry.” Mark says, with a sluggishness that matches his heart, simultaneously delayed and racing, trying but failing to process what is happening. 

“Hi Donghyuck.” Mark says politely, awkwardly, and Jeno puts a reassuring hand on his back. The good thing about Jeno was that he knew (sometimes) when not to tease Mark, sensing that something was wrong. 

Donghyuck takes their orders, having little time to talk as another crowd of students enters the cafe. It’s quite amazing that he runs the whole operation on his own, Mark thinks. Mark has never seen anyone else working there, only Donghyuck. And he seems to work often, likely to afford the insurmountable college fees. 

The conversation moves to something about their upcoming assignment for composition class, Jaemin not missing an opportunity to complain. Jeno listens with the patience of someone in love, and Renjun nods aggressively in agreement. 

Mark isn’t really listening, his mind whirring and halting, as if something were caught in the cogs of a machine. Trying and failing to process the moment he witnessed between Renjun and Donghyuck. _Was there something going on between them? Wouldn’t he know about it if there were?_

His heart rate picks up, beating in his chest, hard. He can feel his blood pressure rising, laced with adrenaline as if he were about to fight or fly. Before he can stop himself, he blurts out, unable to stop himself.

“Renjun, is there something between you and Donghyuck?”. The question is jarring, startling the boys and bluntly interrupting their conversation. Their quizzical eyes turn in unison to Mark, all looking equally puzzled but none more than Renjun.

“No? What do you mean?” Renjun asks, confusion evident in his voice.

“The way he greeted you, it looked like there was something going on.” Mark says, his voice getting quieter and quieter as his face gets warmer and warmer, embarrassment settling in.

“No, we’re friends. Hyuckie is just really affectionate.” Renjun says, still confused. 

“Oh, sorry. I just thought...” Mark trails off, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence. He can’t hide the relief that floods to his voice.

“Would it be a problem if we were?” 

“No! Of course not! I just, I-” Mark stammers, hands flailing awkwardly.

Things seem to click inside Jeno’s head and he cuts Mark off.

“Mark likes Donghyuck.” Jeno says, almost proudly, as if he is the bearer of profound news. Renjun and Jaemin’s faces contort into deeper confusion, then realisation, and then delight.

“Oh my god!” Jaemin squeals, and Renjun shoves him back and forth. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Renjun asks, looking betrayed.

“There was nothing to tell! I’ve only met him once before, I just thought he was cute. That’s it.” Mark says defensively after they stop attacking him.

Instead, they coo at him, so loud he’s sure others can hear. And that could mean Donghyuck could hear, too. Mark feels his blush deepen to an even darker shade of rouge.

“Finally, some action around here.” Renjun says with an eye roll. “I was starting to get bored.” he says as he shoots a pointed look at Jeno and Jaemin, who simultaneously glare back, embarrassed. 

“Well, I have no idea if he’s interested. We barely know each other.” Mark says, his head chin resting on his hand. 

“I can always ask him.” Jaemin says with a wink. Mark pales.

“Yeah, well I can always ask J-” but he’s cut off when Jaemin’s hand moves at the speed of light to cover his mouth. 

That diffuses the all-out war that was about to break out between Mark and Jaemin. 

The conversation moves onto something else, Mark’s friends having exhausted their teasing abilities for the day. Mark again isn’t really listening, his eyes drawn to the cute barista across the cafe like a moon is drawn to its planet. There’s a gravitational pull, a magnetism to the boy. Something drawing Mark in and keeping him there. 

_Like a river flows, surely to the sea._

_Darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be._

He feels it, in the absence when Donghyuck moves behind the coffee machine, clouds of steam obscuring him from view. 

He feels it in class, in bed, when he’s walking, when others are talking. His mind finds any and every space to drift back to that boy, the one who looks like gold and sounds like honey. 

  
  


☽

  
  


It’s only when the campus belltower strikes midnight that Mark realises how much time has slipped away. From the depths of the recording studio, with no windows or natural light, it is easy to do. Mark stretches, his back aching after hunching over his guitar for what felt like both minutes and hours. The stool he perches on feels more wooden than ever, and he shifts uncomfortably. 

He has an assignment due soon, for composition class. The task is to compose a piece of music inspired by a particular music era. And yet, Mark finds himself procrastinating, working on a cover of Solo by Frank Ocean. His favourite song; one he would listen to for the rest of time if he was only allowed to choose one. 

Mark always found that he would work on the wrong things. He could compose for hours, but as soon as it became an assignment, he would avoid it like the plague. Perhaps it was a perfectionistic drive; desperate to do things perfectly but so afraid of failing that it paralysed him, and he was never able to get anything done.

Maybe that’s why, despite his assignment, Mark finds himself singing of a hell on earth, of cities burning, of breathing in heaven. 

_There's a bull and a matador dueling in the sky._

_Inhale, in hell there's heaven._

His fingers pluck at the metal strings with an ease that is testimony to years of practice and hard work. The callouses from yesterday ache, breaking under pressure and making way for new ones to form tomorrow. Mark doesn’t care, doesn’t feel the pain. This is what keeps him alive, like an insatiable drive to create, to express. Music is the rhythm of his soul, and the purpose of his being. 

That’s why he doesn’t notice the hours passing, doesn’t remember Renjun leaving, doesn’t remember the last time he ate. It was often like that when he worked at something; he worked and worked until his fingers bled. But the strike of midnight is like an alarm clock, waking him from his lucid dream. 

He pauses, breathing in the air that’s turned stuffy in the recording booth. In the moment of silence, arguably the first since Mark arrived hours ago to practice, a new sound rises.

It’s a voice, a boy’s voice, smooth and sweet like honey. Mark falters, abandoning all intention to continue playing. Instead, he turns his head, as if angling his ear could help him hear the voice better.

The voice continues, and it’s as airy as it is strong, a paradox. It’s like the voice of a siren, tantalising and alluring, beckoning him closer, daring him to listen. 

He’s never heard anything so beautiful. 

It’s entrancing and addictive, and Mark can’t get enough.

Tentatively, as if the voice were a spirit that needn’t be startled, Mark puts his guitar down and moves towards the door of the studio. He opens it quietly, moving silently out into the hallway of the music rooms. 

The voice is coming from the recording booth two over from Mark’s. As he nears it, he recognises the song. 

_My heart should be well-schooled,_

_cause I've been fooled in the past._

_But still I fall in love too easily,_

_I fall in love too fast._

It’s _I fall in love too easily_ , and Mark feels that itching sensation that he has heard it recently but can’t place where. 

He loved the song though. It was accurate but comforting in its melancholy, as if it sung to Mark’s soul. He found that he did fall in love too easily, too. And it hadn’t really worked out for him so far. 

He sighed, pushing away pain which threatened to emerge from the dark depths of his memory. He reached the door to the studio, dominated mostly by a large glass window at the centre.

Through the glass facade, Mark could finally see the owner of the voice, so sweet and soft it had drawn him from his daze, whispered in his ear to _come._ To _see._

It was Donghyuck, that golden boy. He looked tired but angelic, his hoodie almost swallowing him whole. He stands in front of a microphone, delicate hands wrapping around its stem. His eyes are closed with the soft kiss of concentration, his long lashes resting on golden cheeks. 

Mark is glad the boy can’t see him, because he knows his cheeks are dusted pink, his heart somersaulting with a kind of hazy joy like summer, despite the harsh winter night outside. 

He’s debating whether to knock and interrupt the boy, or to head home, his mind balancing the scales of his options. He decides on the latter, not wanting to disturb Donghyuck. Behind the glass screen he had looked like an artwork, an artefact, that needed to be preserved in its beauty. 

Mark wanted to touch it, but he couldn’t. It could crumble in his hands. Only with his eyes. With his ears. 

Mark turns, heading back to his room where he gathers his things, pulling on a heavy winter coat and preparing to brave the cold. With a sigh, he leaves the music wing, already selfishly craving hearing Donghyuck’s voice again. That boy was really giving him more and more reasons to fall in love. And Mark, he fell in love too easily.

☽

  
  


Sweat beads, salty like seawater, roll down Mark’s forehead, dripping to the wooden floor of the dance studio. Next to him, Jeno is panting, breathless, hands on his knees. 

Mark’s singlet clings to his skin as he walks to the side of the room where his water bottle is. The water is lukewarm, and slightly dissatisfying, but desperately needed. He wipes at the sweat on his forehead absentmindedly, the two boys breathing through the comfortable silence.

They had been practicing since morning, and the sun was beginning to set. It was Sunday, and they often spent the final few hours of the weekend like this. They were dance minors, but it was mostly for fun. When combining twenty-four hour access to dance studios with a week’s worth of tension and stress, it wasn’t surprising the boys could often be found here.

Dance was another form of expression Mark had always loved. Despite intuitively being physically draining, it gave him more energy than he had before. A different kind. A pounding heart, pumping blood, the rush of adrenaline. Feeling alive. 

Years ago when he had found the artform, it gave him the confidence to come out of his shell, to inhabit his body and himself without shame. 

It also gave him friendship. He and Jeno had bonded over their love for dance when they had first met, two first years nervous to meet their roommate. Jeno had also brought Jaemin and Renjun to his life. Despite his rather constant inner monologue of complaints about his friends, and their teasing, he loved them more than words could express. They were a light in his life.

The music stops, jarring Mark from his thoughts. He looks up at Jeno, who is unplugging his phone from the speaker.

“I think that’s enough for today. I’m tired and hungry.” Jeno says, rubbing his stomach. “Do you want to eat?”. Mark’s stomach growls before he can respond, and the two laugh. It feels good; one of those laughs that you feel all over, a warm hum in your bones.

He throws an arm over Jeno’s shoulder as they walk out of the studio, heading in unspoken agreement towards their favourite restaurant. 

☽

  
  


When they arrive at the quaint ramen joint, it's busy and bustling with hungry students seeking reasonably priced meals. The waitress takes their coats and offers them the last available table in the whole place. They sit in the small booth, and Mark breathes in the smell of onion, noodles, and the humid kiss of steam, the clang of chefs at work in the kitchen all too familiar.

This was their favourite place to eat, only a few minutes walk from campus and very cozy as it was tiny. It wouldn’t fit more than fifteen people, and perhaps that was why it was so popular. It offered the homesick a place to feel at home.

Mark smiled to himself fondly at the memories, which Jeno noticed, smiling back because he felt it too. They didn’t need to look at a menu, ordering their usual dishes which arrive with impressive speed.

Mark is just slurping at the last few noodles in the china bowl, basking in the comfortable silence, when Jeno breaks it.

“Mark?” Mark looks up.

“Hm?” he says, unable to speak with a mouthful of noodles. 

“I wanted to ask you something.” Jeno says, and his face is sincere. Mark swallows his noodles.

“Sure. What’s up?” Mark asks.

“Should I tell Jaemin how I feel?” Jeno asks, and there is something like panic flitting behind his calm eyes. Mark takes a moment to consider the question, not having expected it. When he finds his answer, he speaks slowly, keeping his voice reassuring.

“I think you should. You have felt this way for so long and you have nothing to lose. If he doesn’t feel the same way, it won’t change things. And besides, life is too short. You need to take the risk.” Mark says, surprising even himself with his wise words. He doesn’t reveal that he knows for a fact that Jaemin feels the same way. That wasn’t his to share. 

A pensive silence falls between them and Jeno looks shocked, his eyes more like full moons for once. 

“Mark, you’re right.” Jeno finally says, after Mark had begun wondering if he had broken the boy. “God, who would have thought you’d be so wise.” Jeno smirks and Mark shoves him from across the table.

“Hey, don’t act surprised.” Mark says with a hand clutching his chest, pretending to be offended.

“Maybe you should take your own advice.” Jeno quips back, and it catches Mark off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“What you said is right. But you’re not following it either.” Jeno says, but Mark is more confused.

“I still don’t know what you mean.”

“Donghyuck, Mark. It’s clear you like him. You should tell him how you feel.” Jeno says, hands waving in exasperation. Mark’s heart beats harder at the mention of Donghyuck.

“That’s different, though. We don’t know each other. That’d just be weird.” Mark sighs more than says. Jeno looks at him with pity.

“Well get to know him, then.” Jeno says, and Mark smiles, knowing Jeno only wants him to be happy. 

“I’ll try.” Mark says resolutely, and Jeno smiles, that happy, moony smile lighting up his face again.

“Good.” Jeno says. “Because I have a feeling he might feel the same way.”

Mark doesn’t ask what Jeno means, because his whole world stops for a moment at the thought of that being true. This golden boy who warms Mark’s heart with his heart shaped lips. Who sings with the voice of a siren. Who smells like honey, like caramel, like spring. 

_The water's getting colder,_

_Let me in your ocean, swim._

  
  


☽

  
  
  


Hands rub at tired eyes, as if willing the desire to sleep away. It’s nearing two in the morning, the sun long set, the night dark and clear, and the last place Mark wants to be is at the library.

It’s quiet, too quiet. Most of the lights are out, save for a few lamps on his desk. Mark is the only one there. Semifinal exams are in two days, and Mark has barely studied, procrastinating his music assignments with dance, and his dance assignments with music. 

He does this every semester, and every time he promises himself he will be more organised. That hasn’t worked out so well, but he has made it to second year. That was something. (Although, his teachers regularly scolded him. They reminded him that he had only made it this far in the prestigious university because of raw talent, and that he needed to get his life together). 

Mark sighs, his eyes bleary and tired and unfocused on the books sprawled in front of him. His laptop is asleep, a cosmic screensaver dancing across its black screen. He must have zoned out, for how long he’s unsure. 

His brain seems unwilling to return to studying, either overloaded from cramming since morning, or tired from lack of sleep. 

Either way, Mark is desperate for a way out, an excuse to go. The softness of his bedsheets calls to him like a fever dream, out of reach. 

An excuse comes in the form of faint heavy breathing. Mark’s ears prick up at the sound, so loud in the otherwise silent library. He thought he was alone.

Panic subsides when he realises the sound is someone sleeping. Curiosity gets the better of him, or maybe just the desire to do anything but study, and Mark finds himself standing, walking towards the sound. 

It’s coming from a table concealed behind a bookshelf, halfway across the library from Mark. When he reaches the table, emerging from behind the bookshelf, Mark’s heart sings.

It’s Donghyuck, asleep on a pile of books on his desk. He looks adorably soft and fluffy, like a duckling, in his sweater, golden locks peeking from beneath his beanie. His cheeks are rosy and slightly squished against the cover of a textbook, his lips slightly parted with the breath of sleep. He looks gorgeous, as always, and Mark feels a blush on his own cheeks. 

It was curious that he kept running into Donghyuck, Mark thought. They did the same major at the same university, and had mutual friends. And yet, until a week or so ago they had never met. And Donghyuck seemed to be everywhere, in a weird twist of fate, including on Mark’s mind. 

Mark is unsure of what to do. He wants to talk to the boy, wants to know him, and have a proper conversation. But the boy is soundly asleep and he looks too comfortable to disturb. Mark turns on his heel to head back to his table, when he hears a ruffling and confused _“hm?”_.

He turns back around and Donghyuck is awake, rubbing at his eyes sleepily, a confused look on his face. 

“Mark? Is that you?” he asks, confused, voice hoarse with the remnants of sleep, but still sweet, and Mark had missed it. 

“Hey, Donghyuck. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Mark says, standing back from the table. Donghyuck beckons him closer with a sleepy wave of his hand.

“No, you didn’t wake me! I was just waking up.” but it’s hard to believe because he says it with his eyes closed. Mark laughs softly.

“What are you doing here so late?” Mark asks, now standing at the edge of the table.

Donghyuck laughs, now fully awake and eyes shining as he smiles up at Mark. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Mark smiles, rubbing at his neck as if caught out. “I procrastinated studying until the last possible moment. I’ve been working too hard on my music.”

Donghyuck perks up at that. “You’re a music major?” he asks.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Oh, that’s how you know Jaemin and Renjun, right?” 

“Yes, well sort of. I know them through Jeno, who I met through dance. I minor in dance.” Mark says and Donghyuck smiles a blinding smile, so bright in the darkness of the library. 

“I’m a music and dance major too!” Donghyuck says, excitedly with a sudden energy despite having been completely asleep minutes ago.

“I know.” Mark says.

“What do you mean?” Donghyuck asks, and Mark smiles to himself as he notices a delicate blush dusting Donghyuck’s cheeks. 

“I heard you sing actually, the other night.” Mark says, stepping a little closer, close enough that his hand brushes Donghyuck’s arm on the table below. Donghyuck’s blush deepens, and Mark decides he likes seeing the boy like this, the rosy kiss of heat melting into his golden skin. 

When Donghyuck doesn’t speak, a little shocked, Mark does.

“It was late the other night, at the recording studio. I was working on my guitar when I heard your voice. I followed the sound but didn’t want to disturb you. I just listened.” Mark says, looking down at Donghyuck with sincere eyes. “Your voice is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.”

“Thank you.” Donghyuck almost stammers, looking away from Mark’s gaze with an embarrassed smile. Mark basks in the moment. 

“I can’t believe we haven’t met before.” Donghyuck says when he has recovered.

“I know. The world works in mysterious ways.” Mark says pensively and Donghyuck hums in agreement. There’s a moment of comfortable silence, which Mark breaks when he realises something. 

“You didn’t answer my question, though.” he says, earning another confused look from Donghyuck. “What are you doing here so late?”.

Donghyuck sighs, tired again. “I work at _La Belle,_ as you know. I love it there but it’s eating at all my time. I barely have time to study.”

“How come you work so much?” Mark asks.

“I have to support myself. My parents cut me off when I decided to pursue music. They had other dreams for me, corporate or medical they didn’t care. Just not music.” Donghyuck says, voice heavy with sadness. Mark feels his heart sink a little, knowing the feeling well. 

He places a delicate, reassuring hand on Donghyuck’s own, and the boy looks up at him. “I get it, trust me.” Mark says, and the moment they share is almost electric. Donghyuck’s skin is soft and warm beneath his fingers, and his eyes are amber, swirling like liquid gold in the dim light. 

Mark is caught there, entranced and lost, falling into the depths of bronze eyes, when Donghyuck smiles.

“Are you staying for a while longer?” he asks, keeping his hand under Mark’s own. 

“Yeah, I have a lot more to do.” Mark sighs, feeling the heavy reality of how unprepared he really is settling in again, only alleviated for a moment by the presence of the golden boy in front of him. 

“Why don’t you join me? We can keep each other awake.” Mark smiles at the idea, and soon he is seated opposite Donghyuck, his books splayed, tangled and intertwined in a mess with Donghyuck’s own. The same kind of mess that Mark feels in his head, in his heart, a tangle of passion, nerves and desire when he looks at Donghyuck opposite him, like the flicker of a candle in the dim light of night. 

☽

They talk for a while – of music and lyrics, dance and art, love and following your dreams – and it’s the kind of natural conversation you can’t force, words flowing between them like the delicate dance of a song, an instant connection between them that burns like a small ember in Mark’s stomach. 

After a while they fall into comfortable silence. They spend a few hours like that, arguably the most productive hours of Mark’s college career. He has found a rhythm, a motivation to work, which could be from the delirious delusion of sleep deprivation or the boy sitting opposite him. 

It’s only disturbed when Donghyuck lets out a long, sleepy yawn, stretching like a lazy cat. He checks the time on his phone and gasps, hand clutching his chest. 

“Mark!” he exclaims dramatically. 

“What?” Mark looks up suddenly.

“It’s almost four in the morning. We should get some sleep.” he says, the last few words contorting as he yawns again. Mark almost forgets to respond, caught again in how soft Donghyuck looks in his oversized sweater which engulfs him. 

“You’re right.” Mark says, and they pack up. 

As they reach the exit of the library, Mark sucks in a sharp breath. Outside, it’s snowing, delicate flakes falling from the sky like fairydust. It’s the first snow of the year, and Mark had a soft spot in his heart for snow.

“I love snow.” he hears Donghyuck murmur next to him as they stare in awe at the white which decorates the black night like splashes of paint on a canvas. 

_On this night, and in this light,_

_I think I’m falling, I’m falling for you._

“Me too.” Mark breathes back and they share the moment a little longer, before Donghyuck turns. They’re close, close enough that Donghyuck’s coat brushes against his own jacket. From beneath his beanie, Donghyuck’s eyes find his, looking up with something unreadable in them. Something Mark can’t understand. His lips are pink from the frosty bite of the air, slightly parted and in that moment Mark wants to do nothing but kiss them.

_How I wish your heart_

_Cómo quisiera que tu corazón_

_Came with subtitles._

_Viniera con subtítulos._

He looks back up at Donghyuck’s eyes, which are still watching him. The gaze is intense and cloudy, that swirl of amber dancing in his eyes again. Soft, cold breaths puff between them, the only sound to be heard, and Mark’s mind drifts like snow to the thought of Donghyuck panting under him, warm, golden skin against his, such a beautiful sight. 

“Is it far to your place?” Donghyuck asks, and Mark blinks. They’re so close it’s as if Donghyuck whispers it against Mark’s lips. 

“It’s about forty minutes if I walk fast. The last bus was at midnight.” Mark says with a laugh, and Donghyuck gasps. 

“You don’t live on campus?”

“No. Jeno and I share a place nearby. Student accommodation was full when I enrolled.” Mark says, not having thought much about the distance he had to travel home. He did it often, it was like routine now.

“There’s no way I’m letting you do that.” Donghyuck says, and Mark cocks his head in confusion. “It’s freezing, it’s snowing and something could happen to you.” 

“I’ll be okay, Donghyuck. Don’t worry. I do it all the time.” Mark says, trying to reassure Donghyuck with a tender hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“You should come back to mine. I live on campus only five minutes from here.” Donghyuck says, and again his face is unreadable. It’s hard to tell if it’s a friendly offer or something more, and Mark doesn’t miss the opportunity.

  
“Donghyuck, if you wanted take me back to yours you could have just asked.” he says, and it feels good, because Donghyuck blushes harder than a beetroot. Years of being teased by his friends had given Mark plenty of ideas. 

“Ha ha.” he finally says, poking out his tongue. “But seriously. Come back to mine, if you want. I’d sleep better knowing you are okay.” Donghyuck says, with so much sincerity it takes Mark back. He got the sense that Donghyuck was someone who cared about others easily.

“Well, if it helps you sleep better then I will. Sleep is important.” Mark says and they both laugh at the irony of his words, both awake at an ungodly hour. “Are you sure it’s alright?” Mark asks, realising this boy he barely knows is offering to him access to his private space. 

“Of course.” Donghyuck nods, wrapping his hand around Mark’s arm and guiding him home. As they walked, Mark wondered if Donghyuck’s home would smell like he did; like honeybees and spring in bloom, like salted caramel and Christmas. 

☽

  
  


Mark’s suspicions are confirmed when Donghyuck opens the door to his apartment tentatively. It smells like all the things he knew it would, with a hint of honeysuckle too, and it’s warm, giving Mark instant an instant relief from the cold outside.

_Tastes like strawberries on a summer evening,_

_And it sounds just like a song._

It’s spacious, with a small kitchen, two couches and a double bed underneath a giant window on the opposite wall. Moonlight pours in through it, casting silvery shadows over the bedsheets. Donghyuck moves inside, turning on a lamp which instantly bathes the place in golden light. 

“I love it.” Mark says, and Donghyuck smiles.

  
“Thanks! I tried to make it feel like a piece of home.”

“It does.” Mark says, smiling back at Donghyuck, warmth blossoming in his stomach. 

_I want more berries and that summer feeling,_

_It's so wonderful and warm._

Mark gestures towards the couch. “I’ll just sleep here, if that’s okay?” he says, not wanting to intrude on Donghyuck. Said boy shakes his head firmly.

“No, don’t be silly. I wouldn’t invite you back to mine only to make you sleep on the couch. You can sleep in the bed with me if you’re comfortable with that.”. 

Mark is more than comfortable with that, but he doesn’t say so. Instead he smiles, taking off his jacket which he hangs at the door. 

“Do you mind if I borrow some pyjamas?” Mark asks, and Donghyuck encourages him towards his wardrobe. Mark picks out a singlet and trackpants while Donghyuck grabs his own large white shirt and shorts. 

When Donghyuck’s fingers pull at the hem of his shirt, Mark realises he is staring, his mind wondering what lay beneath. He turns around. 

“Sorry.” Mark says bashfully, and Donghyuck laughs, murmuring “easy there tiger”.

He hears Donghyuck change, and does so himself, the muscle tee tight around his torso, exposing his lean, muscular arms. When he turns around again, Donghyuck is the one staring, blushing as Mark catches him.

“Easy there yourself” Mark mocks back and laughs as he walks towards the bed.

Once they’re both under the covers, the overwhelming relief of warmth flooding their bones, it occurs to Mark how small the bed is. He can feel the ghost of Donghyuck’s aura, his warmth, against his skin, tantalising and teasing, close but not close enough.

He sighs, allowing his eyes to close. Waves of exhaustion washing over him, relentless like the sea.

“Thank you, Donghyuck.” he says as he drifts off to sleep. He doesn’t hear the boy’s response as he falls, deeper and deeper towards the dark depths of rest.

☽

Mark wakes up to an unfamiliar weight on his chest. Opening confused eyes, he takes in his surroundings, realising quickly where he ended up last night.

He’s at Donghyuck’s apartment.

With one look to his side, he realises the weight is Donghyuck’s arm, thrown lazily over his torso. The boy is on his side, spooning Mark, and he can feel the boy’s warmth where his leg touches his own. Soft, heavy breaths brush against Mark’s neck, tingling his skin. Asleep, Donghyuck looks peaceful. Angelic, almost. 

_Renjun was right. He is very affectionate._

Lyrics, like faint tendrils, dance on Mark’s mind. _I fall in love too, easily._ Except now he didn’t know if the song was about him, about Donghyuck, or about both of them. 

All he knows is that this moment plants a seed of hope in his heart, a flicker of a flame that he doesn’t want to tend to in case he’s wrong. He doesn’t want to be hurt. 

Mark reaches for his phone blindly, tentatively, not to wake Donghyuck up. When he does, he finds thirteen missed calls and twenty five texts from Jeno, panicked and spanning from 10 pm to a few minutes ago. Mark opens the conversation, but before he can reply, Donghyuck stirs next to him.

“Hm?” he says, eyes peeping open with a sleepy confusion that Mark found adorable. To his surprise, Donghyuck doesn’t move away or even comment on the compromising position he finds himself in. Instead, his eyelids flutter closed again, delicately, and he snuggles against Mark again. Mark hopes Donghyuck can’t hear how hard his heart is beating. 

“What time is it?” Donghyuck asks, voice sweet but muffled by pillows and Mark’s shirt. 

“It’s almost nine.” Mark says, his voice feeling rough and unused. Donghyuck freezes next to him, all sense of lazy morning pace out the window, as he jerks upright.

“Shit. Jaemin will be here any minute.” Donghyuck says, almost panicking.

“What do you mean?” Mark asks, slow and confused.

“He lives next door and he said he’d come meet me so we could walk to the exam together.” Donghyuck says as he tries to scramble out of bed, caught in a losing battle with the sheets. 

His panicking is cut off when a knock sounds at the door. 

Donghyuck curses under his breath as he practically runs to the door, and Mark can’t help but revel in how beautiful the boy looks, his lean body drowning in an oversized shirt, long golden legs carrying him across the room. This boy is like a drug, and Mark’s on his high.

The door swings open, revealing Jaemin (definitely not pyjamas), books in hand and backpack on his shoulder. He smiles his usual bright smile at Donghyuck, who screams “I’ll be one minute!”, manically running around the apartment.

As soon as Donghyuck is out of the way, Jaemin has a full view of the apartment, and it doesn’t take him long to find his friend. They meet eyes, staring at each other in mild shock. Then, Jaemin smiles, that wicked smile of his, the one that says _oh, this is too good._

“So, Mark.” Jaemin says as he enters the apartment, that smile never leaving his lips. There’s a cockiness to his walk. Mark prepares himself for the onslaught of mockery that was no doubt coming. “ _This_ is where you ended up last night. Jeno was worried sick.” Jaemin says, exaggerating the last word, ringing in the silence that follows. Mark sees an opening, a way to bite back. 

“And how would you know that? _Oh_ , let me guess. You were with Jeno last night?” Mark says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Shock flashes across Jaemin’s eyes, if only for a moment, and Mark knows he’s won. His usual smile resettles on his lips as he raises his hands in defeat. 

Donghyuck doesn’t seem to hear them, bickering like children. He’s pulling on clothes, a jacket and shoes at lightning speed. He throws his laptop and some books in a back absentmindedly and hurries towards the door.

“Ready!” he huffs and Jaemin looks proud.

“Shall we go?” Jaemin asks, more a question directed at Mark. Donghyuck follows his gaze, landing on Mark who is still in bed, disheveled and half asleep. 

“Mark, stay here as long as you like! I’ll be back later.” Donghyuck says with a delicate smile, which softens his otherwise manic state.

“Okay.” Mark says, at a loss for words but managing a smile. As Donghyuck closes the door behind himself, Mark catches a glimpse of Jaemin, who shoots him an exaggerated wink.

The door closes and Mark is left in silence; left with the smell of caramel dancing on his lips and the thought of a golden boy, warm and soft, peaceful lying next to him. 

  
  


☽

  
  


The air is cold – harsh – and it bites at Mark’s skin, strips him bare in a way that winter hadn’t this year. Her icy cloak had finally settled over the city, threatening a long and ruthless stay. It was night’s like these which made Mark miss the lazy heat of summer, always wanting what he couldn’t have.

As he hurries back to his apartment, embarking on the long walk home, his footsteps are soft and quiet against the ground covered in snow. The heat and sweat of hours of dance practice seemed to have dissipated the moment he stepped outside, replaced by a permanent chill. He shivers, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and rubbing his hands together in a feeble attempt to generate warmth. His breath is visible, billowing out like a cloud of smoke and he puffs warm air onto his frozen fingertips which threaten to turn blue. 

Mark is alone, which is unusual after dance, but tonight was different. Jeno had skipped practice for the only thing more important than dance. Jaemin.

Sometime in the last week since Mark had seen him (and he had given him that devilish wink), Jaemin had worked up the courage to ask Jeno on a date. Jeno had been ecstatic, like an excited puppy when he came home that day. Mark was happy for the two of them. They were his best friends, after all. 

The walk home didn’t usually feel sinister, even when he did it alone. And yet, something was different this evening, as if there was something lurking in the shadows, behind the walls and down the alleys as Mark passed. He shuddered at the thought and continued home, walking a little faster. 

☽

  
  


Mark is only a few blocks from home, when he hears it.

It’s the snap of a twig, the movement of air, parting way for someone to move through it. It’s _a chill in the air and a sinking feeling; Like bitter tangerine, like sirens in the streets._

Rough hands grab at him, aggressive, pulling him violently backwards into the darkness of an alley.

Those same hands slam him up against the hard brick wall. Mark’s heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline surging through his body as he struggles, thrashing against the hold which pins him there. 

Despite his efforts, he can’t escape. When he deflates, exhausted, the figure steps back. As Mark’s eyes adjust to the light, he can see three people, men, one scrawny, one burly and one muscular. 

The hands which held him there are replaced with a knife at his throat.

“What do you want?” Mark asks, trying to keep his voice calm, to conceal his fear. One of the men laughs, and the knife inches closer to his skin, it's cold metal tip threatening to pierce through the flesh.

“We want your wallet, all your money. Give us everything, and no one gets hurt.” the scrawny one, the one holding the knife, says, and Mark knows it's a lie. Through the darkness he can see his evil smile, revealing yellow, decaying teeth in the moonlight. 

Mark still complies, handing them everything he has, his blood hot and agitated beneath his skin, the instinctive urge to fight or fly coursing through his bones. He feels anger more than anything, frustration that this is happening to him. But the knife at his throat provokes fear too. 

“See? That wasn’t so hard.” the burly man says when they have thrown his things in a bag, and Mark is tense. He has the feeling it isn’t over. 

“If that’s all you wanted then let me go.” he spits, and an uncomfortable, dangerous silence falls. The three men look at each other in some kind of agreement, and Mark holds his breath.

A hard fist smacks his cheek, bruising it instantly, and then another hits his lips, the skin cracking under the pressure. As Mark collapses to the ground, he feels a few drops of blood trickle down his chin, staining his shirt.

His memory of the rest is hazy, fading at the edges. There’s the feeling of feet kicking at his stomach, making him dry-heave, mocking laughter and the words _“spoiled brat”._

Mark doesn’t open his eyes for a few minutes after they stop, after they’re gone. He just lays on the cold, wet concrete of the alley. Breathing feels wrong, as if his ribcage is out of place, the cold snap of air cutting open fresh wounds in his lungs. 

He needs help, the gang took his keys, and Jeno isn’t home. Mark pushes himself to his feet, wincing in pain but determined. In his daze, the only place his feet can think to carry him is to _La Belle._

  
  


☽

  
  


The familiar jangling of a bell sounds as Mark stumbles into the empty cafe, the scent of roasting coffee overwhelming him. It’s almost nine in the evening, and most students are either cramming for their exams or sleeping. The only person in the cafe is Donghyuck, that golden boy, behind the counter with his head buried in a book.

When Mark enters, moving towards the counter, the ringing bell breaks the casual hum of jazz music. Donghyuck looks up, first in surprise that there’s a customer, and then a surprised smile when he realises it’s Mark, and then confusion, shock and horror. It’s comical to watch, really.

“Mark!” Donghyuck almost screams, opening the counter door and closing the distance between them. His eyes are alive with worry and despite the circumstances Mark thinks that it’s cute. Donghyuck places a gentle hand on his cheekbone, which he knows must be purple by now, and Mark winces, his eyes clamping shut from the memory of pain.

“What happened?” Donghyuck breathes, moving his hand to Mark’s arm. 

“I got jumped by some guys in an alley. They took all of my money, and my wallet too.”

“Oh my god, are you alright?” Donghyuck asks in genuine fear, and Mark smiles softly. “We need to get you some help.” Donghyuck says, eyeing the cut on his bottom lip, the purple dusting his cheekbone. His eyes gaze over Mark’s whole body worriedly, settling for a moment on the crimson coloured stain on his shirt. 

“Shh, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.” Mark says, but the drowsiness of his voice gives him away. 

“No, you’re not. Let me help you.” Donghyuck says, and Mark can do nothing but submit. 

Donghyuck guides him gently to the counter, which he leans against, grateful for the relief of not having to carry his own weight. His body aches, like it's collapsing in on itself constantly. His head spins and he closes his eyes again. 

Donghyuck helps him up so that he is sitting on the counter. He leaves him there for a moment, walking to the cafe door and flipping the sign so that it reads _Closed._ Then he disappears to the storeroom of the cafe, reemerging with a first-aid box in his hands. 

Mark thinks of protesting, but he doesn’t have the energy to. Donghyuck places the box next to Mark, opening it and grabbing a cotton pad and disinfectant. 

“I need to disinfect your wounds so they don’t get infected.” Donghyuck says, and Mark rolls his eyes playfully.

“Okay, doctor.” he says and Donghyuck scoffs. Mark feels his heart somersault in his chest when Donghyuck’s hands rest on his knees, silently asking him to spread them. 

Mark spreads his legs, allowing Donghyuck entrance, to get closer to him. The only place Mark’s mind wants to go is to how sexual this is, how much he would love to have Donghyuck in this position, legs spread on the counter, standing between those golden thighs. 

Donghyuck doesn’t seem to notice how intimate their position is though, or if he does, it doesn’t show. There is nothing but deep concern and tender care in the way he tentatively dabs at Mark’s wounds, becoming even more gentle each time Mark grimaces at the pain.

“We should report them to the police, you know.” Donghyuck says. “This isn’t okay.”

Mark laughs, smiling down at Donghyuck, resting his hands on Donghyuck’s elbows. The boy’s skin is warm, almost burns to touch, and Mark wants nothing more but to lean into it. He doesn’t though. 

Instead, he speaks. “It’s okay, Donghyuck. I was just unlucky. It wasn’t personal and I have no idea who they were. They’d be long gone now.”.

Donghyuck sighs, knowing he’s right. He looks down, distracted by his concern, frowning at the ground.

“ _Hey_ ” Mark says gently, delicate fingers reaching down to tilt Donghyuck’s head back up. They meet eyes, and Donghyuck looks like gold in human form, his molten eyes swirling, his golden skin kissed, his heart-shaped lips slightly pouting. He is beautiful, and Mark’s heart can’t take it much longer.

Mark holds his gaze, his heart beating in his chest. Something between them changes, and Donghyuck looks less like concern and more unreadable, his expression changing. Mark thinks he sees yearning in his eyes. And Mark is hungry, hungry to know what this boy who smells like honey would taste like.

_So you sat and stared at my lips,_

_and I could already feel your kiss._

Mark runs his thumb across Donghyuck’s bottom lip, and it’s soft and so warm. Donghyuck leans closer, instinctively leaning into Mark’s touch, his eyes fluttering closed delicately. An unspoken invitation. 

Mark leans closer too, closing the distance between them, cupping Donghyuck’s face, until their lips are touching, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle, completing each other.

It’s soft, gentle and romantic, and everything Mark knew Donghyuck would be. He tastes like caramel, like summer, like sunrises and Mark is hungry. He can’t get enough. 

The kiss deepens when Mark bites gently at Donghyuck’s lower lip, earning him a soft moan. Donghyuck opens his lips for Mark without hesitation, practically melting into it, and Mark smiles against his lips. 

They explore each other’s mouths with a mixture of tentativeness and greed, the kiss turning passionate and rushed. Donghyuck’s hands circle around Mark’s neck, pulling him closer, until Mark can feel Donghyuck’s lean torso against his groin. 

Donghyuck moans when he feels Mark’s growing erection against him. His hands move lower to the collar of Mark’s leather jacket, trying to peel it off. 

Mark lifts his hands to rest on Donghyuck’s, gently stopping him. He pulls back, letting them both catch their breaths. Donghyuck pouts and Mark laughs, loving how needy Donghyuck is. It echoes the feeling that has haunted Mark since he first laid eyes on the gorgeous barista. 

“Let’s go back to yours.” Mark whispers against Donghyuck’s ear. Donghyuck nods firmly. 

  
  


☽

  
  


This time, Mark doesn’t need to take in the sight of Donghyuck’s room. 

It’s familiar, like Donghyuck, like home, and he wastes no time pressing Donghyuck up against the closed door of the apartment. 

They kiss again, desperate and needy and rushed. Hands fumble with scarves and jackets until Mark is pulling Donghyuck’s shirt off his torso, revealing his lean, tanned frame. Mark pauses, breathing in Donghyuck’s beauty as if committing it to memory. Donghyuck’s hands twitch needily at the back of Mark’s neck, wanting him close again. 

Mark pulls off his own shirt, moving Donghyuck backwards towards the bed without missing the way Donghyuck blushes, his eyes grazing over Mark’s muscular chest, toned from hours of sweat and practice in the dance studios. 

Donghyuck falls down on the bed, pulling Mark on top of him gently. Their naked chests are flush against each other and Donghyuck is warm like a summer desert, the kiss of heat on a winter’s night. 

They kiss again, Mark moving his lips to kiss Donghyuck’s earlobe, down his exposed neck, to his collarbones. Donghyuck moans, his back arching slightly, and Mark smiles. He loves seeing the boy like this, like he needed him, desperately. Mark felt it too, and it made his head spin deliriously. 

Mark moves lower and lower, until his lips are kissing at the soft skin of Donghyuck’s stomach, at the arch of his hip bones where skin is pulled tight over his lean figure. His expert hands work to undo Donghyuck’s belt, and Donghyuck helps him to pull his ripped jeans off.

Donghyuck lies on his back, legs slightly spread, erection tenting in his underwear and head thrown back in anticipation. _I could get used to this view_ , Mark thinks, as he pulls down Donghyuck’s underwear. Donghyuck sucks in a sharp breath as the cool air caresses his erection, which is, as expected, as beautiful as Donghyuck is. 

Mark licks teasingly along the length of his erection, feeling Donghyuck twitch at the touch. Donghyuck’s breathing is heavy and his hands run through Mark’s hair, balling in delicate fists when Mark finally takes all of him in his mouth.

He moves up and down at a tantalising pace, keeping Donghyuck on edge, as if he could stop at any moment. A trapped moan escapes Donghyuck’s lips, a beautiful sound like his beautiful voice. 

Mark pulls away and Donghyuck groans.

“You’re such a tease.” Donghyuck whines, although he’s smiling, as Mark moves up, kissing his lips softly.

“Or maybe you’re just greedy.” Mark says and Donghyuck bites his lip to stop his smile from widening.

And then they’re kissing again, Mark’s fingers wandering south until they reach the place where Donghyuck’s legs meet.

“What do you want?” Mark asks, staring into Donghyuck’s eyes, swirling like a cosmos of desire. 

“I want all of you.” Donghyuck breathes, spreading his legs for Mark like honey. He really is golden in every way. 

Mark obliges, lowering his hand to gently insert one of his fingers deep inside Donghyuck whilst he kisses at Donghyuck’s neck. Even just one finger feels so good, a taste of what it feels like to be inside of Donghyuck, to complete him the way he desperately craved. Donghyuck moans, hard, clenching down around Mark’s finger, which is working him open gently. He whines, needs more, for Mark to go deeper. 

Mark smiles knowingly as he enters a second, then a third finger, stretching Donghyuck open with ease. Donghyuck’s breathing is heavy, his back arched and neck exposed, revealing delicate love bites blooming where Mark’s lips had been. 

Mark curls his fingers upwards, towards Donghyuck’s prostate, and when he reaches it Donghyuck’s whole body shudders and the boy almost screams in pleasure. 

“Are you ready?” Mark asks, still kissing at his neck. Donghyuck can’t seem to find the words so he nods, hungrily biting at Mark’s lips. 

  
His fingers leave Donghyuck, only for a moment that’s long enough to leave the boy urgent, desperate to be filled. It doesn’t last long, as soon enough all of Mark is inside of him.

The rest is a blur. 

The whole world shudders to a stop, like slow motion, until it is just the two of them, and nothing else. 

_Wanting your love to come into me, feeling it slow, over this dream._

It flickers like the scene of a movie, of lust and desire. A montage of sweaty bodies, needy kisses, moans and soft whispers.

_Touch me with a kiss, now you’re above feeling it still._

Of laboured breaths, desperate cries and pursuit of that final sweet release, sweeter than honey. The very air Mark lives and breathes is Donghyuck, and he’s high, head spinning. 

_Tell me it's love, tell me it's real._

The sweet voice of a siren beckons them closer to that place of pleasure, orgasmic explosions of euphoria finally breaking free, crashing over them like waves against rocks in the night. 

_Because this is where I wanna be. Where it’s so sweet and heavenly._

Sighs of pleasure fill the night’s silence as they collapse in a sweaty mess of tangled limbs. It’s hot, too hot and Mark is burning up, but it’s with the hazy heat of a mirage, this moment too beautiful to be real. 

Donghyuck’s head is buried in the warmth of Mark’s chest, his forehead sweaty and his golden locks damp, tickling at Mark’s skin. 

_Fuck_ , is the most intelligent thing Donghyuck seems to muster, and Mark groans in agreement, all of his words drifting away on the breeze outside. They lie there, basking in the pleasure and bliss, Mark rubbing soothing circles into Donghyuck’s caramel skin. 

As Mark’s mind begins to slow – as if drunk, like a honeybee in spring, nose dusted with pollen – as he sinks into the peaceful depths of sleep, words echo in his mind. A song of loving too easily, loving too fast. 

But this time Mark doesn’t care. He _wants_ to love easily, to love fast, in that haste and joy so typical of youth. He wants to chase it, even if he is blind, eyes closed, stumbling in the dark. He _wants_ to fan the flames of the fire in his heart, watch it grow and grow until it is unstoppable, inevitable, a passionate wildfire setting him and everything around him ablaze. 

And he wants to do it for Donghyuck. 

Why? Because he can see it, that same wildfire, burning in his eyes, too.

  
  


☽

  
  


_Golden, as I open my eyes. Hold it, focus, hoping, take me back to the light._

Warm sunlight licks at Mark’s eyelids, the kiss of sunrise, beckoning him to wake. It’s an almost unfamiliar feeling, the first time in a long time that the sun has broken through the thick clouds of winter. 

_You’re so golden, I’m out of my head, and I know that you’re scared, because hearts get broken._

Mark keeps his eyes closed, grasping at the elusive moment, trying to hold it for a little longer. 

He’s warm, set alight by heat radiating from the golden boy in his arms, whose naked honey skin is flush against his own body in a tangled mess of bedsheets and memories of last night. 

There’s something deep, and burning, like the flicker of a flame, in his stomach, in his heart. He feels peaceful, rested, completed, for the first time in a while. All because of the boy next to him. Donghyuck.

Said boy stirs, yellow sunlight pouring through the large window and dancing on his eyelashes too. When his eyes flutter open, the first thing they search for is Mark, almost as if he expected he’d be gone. That makes Mark’s heart sink a little, knowing there is probably pain in Donghyuck’s past. Mark wraps his arms tighter around Donghyuck, holding him close. Donghyuck smiles softly, immediately, snuggling his head into Mark’s chest and breathing in his scent. 

“Morning, sunshine.” Mark says after a few moments of silence, chancing a gentle kiss on Donghyuck’s forehead. He can feel the boy smiling against his skin when he murmurs _“morning”_ in a drowsy voice. 

“What time is it?” he murmurs again.

“It’s seven thirty.” Mark says after checking his phone. Donghyuck groans.

“I have to open the cafe for eight.” he sighs, whispering _“I miss sleeping in”_ under his breath. 

“If you want, I can open it and you can sleep a bit longer.” Mark offers, although he doesn’t really consider just how that idea would work out. Come to think of it, that would probably be a disaster. Donghyuck laughs, pushing himself up on his arms, and Mark misses the warmth already. Craves it. 

“It’s okay, I can do it. Plus, I’d love to see you try.” Donghyuck teases, poking out his tongue. Mark just laughs as he watches the boy leave the bed, feet padding towards his wardrobe. He picks out a black turtleneck – the one he was wearing the first time Mark ever saw him – and black ripped jeans. Mark watches indulgently as Donghyuck pulls off his shirt, and he feels heat pooling in his stomach again. As he pulls the turtleneck over his lean frame, its high rise neckline conceals the marks of passion on Donghyuck’s neck – in the shape of Mark’s lips – like it’s for Mark, and Mark only. 

Donghyuck is dressed, throwing his apron over his arm, looking too beautiful at this early hour for someone who just woke. 

“I’ll come with you.” Mark says, his voice betraying him and revealing a little bit of desperation, this strange urge to be by Donghyuck’s side overwhelming him. Donghyuck smiles, and it’s bright and blinding.

“I’d love that.” he says, and Mark’s heart burns as he moves out of bed, towards the boy. When they’re close enough their noses are touching, Mark gentling places a hand on Donghyuck’s chin, tilting it up. They meet eyes, and Donghyuck moves forwards, placing his lips on Mark’s again.

The kiss is soft, gentle, wispy like the morning air, and it’s short, because Donghyuck really has to go. Soon they’re hurrying out of Donghyuck’s apartment, laughter lingering on their lips, warm because of their coats, but even warmer because of their hands, intertwined, together.

☽

Outside, it's snowing, crystal formations breaking free from imprisonment in the sky, falling like cherry blossoms, melting almost instantly midair in the crispy morning sun. 

It's poetic; two impossible halves, sun and snow, circling each other in a never ending dance, like koi fish in a pond.

The morning feels warmer with Donghyuck. 

As they walk to the cafe, hands intertwined between them, Donghyuck sings under his breath, humming a sweet tune of a song Mark doesn't know.

When Mark asks what it is, Donghyuck tells him it's a song of his own, and that only makes Mark's heart feel a little lighter, the flicker in his stomach burning a little brighter. He is falling in love. 

They reach the cafe, not far from the centre of campus, and Donghyuck unlocks the door. The bell sounds – it had become so familiar – as they push into the cafe. It smells like Mark expected it to, but fainter, as if mourning Donghyuck's presence. After all, it’s really him – not the cafe – that who smells golden, like honey, caramel and something roasting. 

Donghyuck hangs their coats in the back, tying his beige apron with _La Belle_ embroidered in the centre around his body. At a nearby table Mark sets up to spend the day studying, laptop open and books sprawled. When he sees Donghyuck, he is reminded of the first day he saw the boy. 

Donghyuck looks almost exactly the same – in his apron, here at the cafe – but there is something slightly different to him. A lightness in his step, the smile of a fond memory on his lips. He looks like joy, personified. And Mark knows why, because he feels it too. 

And before Donghyuck opens the cafe, no doubt to many herds of sleep deprived and decaffeinated students, Mark tries to savour this moment. To feel the butterflies fluttering and floating in his heart. The distance between them filled by their intangible bond, a connection set ablaze. 

“I fall in love too easily.” Mark says, the words floating from his lips, dancing in the gentle quiet of the cafe. 

“Hm?” Donghyuck says, looking up, eyes open and searching Mark’s own, uncertain and afraid of what he may say next. Almost as if he expects a rejection. But what comes is the opposite.

“That’s the song that was playing the day I first saw you.” Mark says fondly, and Donghyuck smiles, sweeter than sugar. 

“It was an omen, then.” Donghyuck says. “Because it’s what happened to me.” 

And at that, Mark is speechless, a blush on his cheeks and a racing heart in his chest. Donghyuck smiles again, his words still dripping with honey in Mark’s mind. It was true, though. Mark had fallen in love, and easily at that. 

But Mark is starting to think that the reason he fell in love isn’t because he’s simply someone who falls in love easily. No, quite the opposite. 

It’s Donghyuck. It’s always Donghyuck. He is someone you can love, so easily, more effortless than snow dancing delicately on a wintery morning breeze.

The better half of the morning is a blur of customers, coffee steam, and studying. Donghyuck is really busy, the cafe especially popular on a Saturday morning, and Mark finds himself wanting to help, although he knows he can’t. Instead, he encourages Donghyuck with gentle smiles when they meet eyes across the cafe every so often. Donghyuck always smiles back, and it never gets old. 

The afternoon brings a brief lul, Mark having forgotten what silence sounded like. He’s working on the third draft of an essay when he senses hurried movement, underscored by determination. He looks up to find Donghyuck, bustling around the kitchen, preparing something with intent and focus. Mark is familiar with the way Donghyuck bites his lip when he concentrates, brow furrowing, but he still finds it as endearing as if it were the first time he saw it. 

Mark doesn’t have to wonder what he is up to, because a few moments later Donghyuck is walking towards him with a mug in his hands. It smells like cinnamon and spice when he puts it down – it’s the _Barista’s_ _Special_ , the drink Mark ordered when they met – and the foam on top parts for drizzled honey in the shape of a love heart. 

There’s a small note beside the mug, and Mark can feel Donghyuck watching him intently as he turns it over with delicate fingers. Two words, written in beautiful cursive handwriting.

_“Be mine?”_

Mark looks up at Donghyuck who is fidgeting nervously. Silently, Mark stands, hands finding Donghyuck’s hips, pulling him close.

Their lips meet. The entire cafe seems to hold its breath for a moment, like a witness to the blossoming of new love. Despite the first sight of snow, it feels like spring inside Mark’s heart, wildflowers blooming underneath a golden sun. 

_“Yes.”_ Mark all but whispers against Donghyuck’s lips, feeling the other boy’s racing heart in his chest, the soft smile on his lips. 

Not only is Donghyuck the golden boy, but he’s Mark’s golden boy. And nothing in this world mattered more than that. 

The serene moment is stolen from them when three boys – who Mark recognises without looking as Jaemin, Jeno and Renjun – jump, shriek and whoop loudly from outside the glass walls of the cafe, pushing each other and pointing, their words muffled by the glass between them.

Mark doesn’t need to hear exactly what they’re saying – he gets the idea. He chuckles together with Donghyuck, their eyes meeting again. He smiles, and so does Donghyuck, the unspoken words on their lips; _this is where I want to be. In your arms. Where it’s so sweet and heavenly._

_月_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed reading this story !! please feel free to comment below and let me know what you thought ♡
> 
> you can find me on my twitter [ophelialilies](https://twitter.com/ophelialilies) and on curious cat [here](https://curiouscat.me/ophelialilies) ♡ have a lovely day!


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